


You're Not The Boss Of Me

by darknessvisible



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Boss/Employee Relationship, Complete, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Rey Needs A Hug, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Writer Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-11-02 02:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20584151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darknessvisible/pseuds/darknessvisible
Summary: from reylo_prompts on twitter: CC Prompt: “Drunk one night and annoyed at her boss Ben, Rey composes an email she never intends to send. It starts off complaining about how he’s taken her for granted and how he never appreciates the work she puts in It unravels into how she wants to run her fingers through his hair, how hot he is, and all of the fantasies she’s had of him.She wakes up the next day and goes to work. That’s when Ben Solo asks to see her in his office. With a printed copy of her email. Highlighted.”EPILOGUE IS UP





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> (this is either going to be a two part or three part fic. depends on how long the next chapter is/if i will need to break it up. please enjoy the smut responsibly aka with a glass of water. hydration is key!!)

Rey Johnson absolutely hated her job. 

She’d been stuck as a copy editor for months now, even with the hard-earned, _ extremely _expensive degree she brought with her all the way from Illinois when she took this job. It was meant to be a step-ladder, but it felt like a noose. 

It wasn’t the work that made her hate it so much; Rey didn’t mind going over articles before they were published, if only for the sole power afforded to her in the simple exchange between “which” and “that” (and truly, there _ was _ inestimable power), but it was her boss, Ben Solo, that made the entire experience a miserable one. 

He was always in a sour mood, refusing to provide any sort of guidance on how he wanted things and then chastising Rey for every mistake she made (mistakes that _could_ have been avoided had someone _told_ her not to do it that way, or at the very least _how _to do it in the first place). Whenever he came over to her cubicle, he hovered uncomfortably, always wearing a smug expression, as though he gleefully awaited her to burst into flames right there at her desk. There were days when Rey would have preferred to do exactly that, so long as she didn’t have to report to him at the end of the day. 

Today was one of those days. Face slumped in her hands, Rey’s elbow wobbled against the mousepad while she waited for a file to download. Ben had sent something over to her that needed ~~_ URGENT, IMMEDIATE ATTENTION~~ _, and it was apparently the size of a small city because she had been waiting at least five minutes. Which, in Rey’s experience, was like a century in computer time. 

She toyed with a paperclip holder--one of the few items she kept on the otherwise barren, manufactured wood writing desk. 

This markup would probably take all afternoon, and Ben would still find something wrong with it to email her about at 1 in the morning. Oh, how she _hated_ his emails; they were always so thorough, so meticulous, it was almost as if he spent the entire day only writing this one thing. Did he even do any of his own work, or did he just waste away at his desk, waiting hungrily for Rey’s Next Bad Markup so he could systematically destroy it?

“Johnson!” A coworker barked at her from across the hall, standing above their cubicle. His name was Poe. “Did you finish the Hamburger story?” 

Rey groaned. “Ugh, no. I’m stuck waiting on this stupid thing to download.”

“Boss man again, huh?” Poe smirked. He always rolled up the sleeves to his work shirts, revealing tattooed forearms. When he’d first started working here, Rey considered flirting with him, but it soon became apparent that Poe only wanted to flirt with penises and Rey could not oblige. Though, he remained one of the few attractive people at Rey’s workplace. Well, not counting Ben Solo. And Rey had decided a _ long, long _ time ago not to count Ben Solo, with his stupid jawline and insulting height.

Rey loathed the visceral knot he prompted in her stomach every time he entered a room. 

“You know it,” she glared towards Ben Solo’s office, his door closed. 

Poe came over and leaned around her cubicle. “Let’s go out tonight. Finn’s performing at Machine.” He gave Rey a once over. “I think you need it. When’s the last time you thought of yourself as a sexual being?” 

Rey swatted his arm. “It’s not _my fault_ Ben keeps sending me emails in the middle of the night demanding that I fix something before he comes in the next morning.”

“He is quite needy, isn’t he?” The tattooed man rolled his eyes. 

“Just once I’d like to see how he would feel about getting a detailed, MLA format, deep dive into everything awful about him.” Crossing her arms, Rey leaned back in her chair. It creaked from the pressure, as it was wont to do. She’d been working here nearly six months and Ben couldn’t be bothered to give her a decent chair. Every time she asked, he would give some excuse about how working standing up was better anyways, why didn’t she give that a try? Surely someone else would be fine with the chair - someone _ less sensitive. _

Suddenly Ben Solo’s door burst open, and the tall, dark haired man already had his eyes trained on Rey’s desk, shouting across the work room. “Johnson! _ Where _ is that hamburger piece I need it ready _ by 5 _ ! And _ when _are you going to respond to my last two emails about the file download? There’s a part 2 I need you to add to your roster. Now. ”

The boom of his voice rattling demands at top speed startled her so much she jumped, causing the creaky old chair to finally give out, snapping at the hilt and taking Rey tumbling down with it. 

Poe couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Oof!” He reached out a hand to help her up. “You’re ok.” 

Rey’s ears were bright red. She knew that stupid chair would give out eventually. And, of course, Ben would no doubt blame her for it. Speaking of - 

“Johnson,” Ben came out of his office, slowly approaching her with a scrutinizing expression. “Fix that chair. You’ll need it tomorrow.” 

She could have shoved his face into the center of a volcano. In fact, she could have raised the volcano herself and dumped him and all of his stupid emails right down into the molten lava. 

“Oh yeah, sure, no problem,” Rey replied dryly from her position on the floor. Ben moved a bit closer and squinted down at her. 

Whenever he got this close to her, she started to feel her palms get hot. His voice was so deep and powerful - his hands, usually supporting a mug of hot coffee, were so _ fucking _ huge - that if Rey wasn’t careful she would forget about how awful he was and instead try to imagine how his fingertips tasted if they were -

“Looks like you spilled some coffee on your shirt.” He smirked, holding up the mug to regard her - the same mug _she_ refilled with coffee _for him_. 

Before Rey could spring to her feet and tackle Ben Solo, or throw his piping hot mug of coffee all over his shirt, Poe blocked her. “Whoa whoa whoa,” he whispered, “slow down.” Ben walked back into his office without another word. “Save it for the bar.” Poe patted her back encouragingly, leaving her to stew in the mental loop of scenarios involving Ben Solo and active volcanoes. 

* * *

Machine was packed, even for a Thursday night. 

Poe and Rey were huddled in the back right corner, sizing up open seats at the bar. Finn wasn’t going on for another hour or two, but he was backstage preparing. Back when Rey first started coming out with Poe and Finn, they were always mingling with people and introducing so-and-so to this person who was this-and-that to this other person wow-I can’t-believe-you-haven’t-met-each-other-before. But it had mellowed out, and now the move was to hover around the bar and only say hi when people came by. 

Poe called it seasonal networking. Rey called it a fucking crack plan. Laying low kept her out of trouble and kept the vodka nearby. 

The bartender came over to them - an old friend and possibly hook-up, Rey suspected, of Poe’s - holding two doubleshot glasses. “These are from a friend,” he nodded towards the sea of lace and glitter that spanned between their corner and the stage. In the dimensional spotlights of the bar, they couldn’t make out anyone’s faces. 

“Cheers,” Poe took the glasses, holding one out to Rey. “This better be vodka.” She swallowed it in one gulp. 

“It’s tequila,” the bartender shrugged, walking away. 

“Oh _ no _,” Rey’s tongue burned with the sterile aftertaste. “You know how I get with tequila.” 

Poe mimed himself throwing up, and then shaking his ass against the side of the bar. “Is it something like this? Am I remembering correctly? That was the night you slept with good ol’ Armie.” 

“Please please please please,” Rey pinched the bridge of her nose, “do not remind me about that.” 

“That was the same night you got all hot and bothered when Ben wouldn’t text you back, after you dropped off some reprint of something in his mailbox. He made you go all the way to _ Queens _and back. Do you remember that?” 

“I remember the Queens thing. I don’t remember anything about getting hot and bothered by Ben ‘The Human Garbage Man’ Solo.” She stuck her tongue out. Poe tapped the bar, indicating for two more shots. “Oh yes you did, Johnson. You told me that you wanted him to fuck the floor out from under you. That’s exactly what you said. I remember it because I told Finn about how creative and sexually repressed you are.” He beamed, eyes greedily lighting up when the bartender came back with the shots. “Eyes up, Johnson,” he shoved the tequila shot into her hands, “you only live once.” 

She would have argued with him, but it was hard to play stupid with Poe. He just had a way of _knowing_ when someone was bullshitting him, and Rey couldn’t fully deny what she’d said. Sure, they had been the words of a drunk, sad, delirious, overworked new hire, sulking in the unpleasantness of working for someone who seemed to hate her, but they had still been _her_ words. 

Speaking of words, and things better than words - Rey tossed the shot back. “Just don’t let me use my phone after midnight. If I get another one of those _ stupid fucking emails _\--” 

Poe yanked the phone right out of her back pocket. “Consider it done, Johnson.” 


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ i have decided to make this a 3-part story. all aboard the awkward smuttiness train!!!!! also stay tuned for a fun and fresh twist in the next chapter. as always, tell me what you think!! it feeds the fanfic gremlin in me ]

Five more tequila shots and a lip sync battle later, Rey Johnson stumbled out of the uber, fumbling around for the keys to her apartment. She lived in a five floor walk up in Brooklyn - not the most glamorous of digs but her landlord minded his own business and the guy who lived beneath her went to culinary school and thus, often distributed the leftovers of his homework to the neighbors. 

It was a battle getting up the stairs, a bleary eyed Rey versus every individual stair that challenged her depth perception like never before. _ This is why I don’t drink tequila _. She groaned, using her shoulder to push open the door to her unit. 

Her phone pinged - a familiar sound at this hour. Poe was supposed to keep it from her but she needed it to call an uber after feeling too sick to stay out. 

And now she was facing down the very scenario she wanted to avoid. But unlike sober Rey’s clear and rational thinking, drunk Rey was feeling like Ben Solo had _some fucking nerve_ to be emailing her after what happened today. She pulled up the email and began scanning it for the usual - “weak edits”, “confusing”, “awkward”, “too wordy”, “why didn’t you catch this”, etc. It was all there. 

If Rey Johnson hadn’t had tequila, she might have politely replied to the email with a listicle of changes she would make in the morning. Or, even better, she might have closed her phone and gotten herself a glass of water and gone to bed. 

But Ben Solo had been walking all over her for nearly half a year now, and he didn’t once bother to thank her for any of the hard work she did to keep their stupid magazine afloat. Tomorrow, she would come into work to a broken chair, a mountain of work, and absolutely no help or positive reinforcement from her boss to get it all done. 

All of these feelings - plus a hefty dose of tequila - gave Rey a brilliant, terrible, delicious, awful idea. 

She pulled out her laptop, mumbling to herself as she repeated the last sentence in Ben’s email. “Need a reply ASAP…. Is thah’t so, Mr. Solo?” Her words were slurred, but with only herself around to hear it, Rey thought she sounded quite reasonable and intelligent. “I’ll give you ahh rr..reply.” 

Her fingers began tapping away, surprisingly adept for someone who couldn’t pass a sobriety test in that moment to save her life. 

_ Dear Mr. Solo, _

_ I read through your entire email and I find your comments to be baseless and infuriating. I will now detail all the reasons why you are wrong. _

A gleeful expression came upon her face. Folding her legs, she pulled the laptop onto her knees and continued, witlessly slamming on the keys as she typed away. 

_ To begin with, the very premise of your email is flawed. You write to me as if you have any concept of my contributions to this magazine, when in reality you haven’t noticed anything I’ve done since the day you hired me. The Dolphin piece? I saved us from that horrible misprint but you took all the credit for it. The broken coffee mug? That was after you asked me to remake you a coffee using whole beans. Whole beans! In a coffee maker! But I did what you said because you insisted. _

_ Secondly _

Rey paused in her typing, recalling the day he had called her into his office to address the broken coffee maker. He was wearing an open-collared white shirt under a thin black vest; she remembered this because she’d imagined herself emptying the entire contents of the now jammed filter all over his chest, leaving him to walk around the rest of the day looking like someone had taken a dump right on top of him. 

_ Secondly, your email ignores the second round of edits I made this afternoon, after my chair, the one you’ve refused to replace for months now, broke. I addressed comments 2, 3, and 5 already in that draft. _

_ Thirdly _

Here Rey paused again, feeling a bit woozy from the alcohol. She wondered if chugging a glass of water would revitalize her, groping around her coffee table in the hopes of finding one. She did, in fact, find a glass full of liquid, but as her tastebuds registered once taking a generous gulp, it was Very Much Not Water. 

Rey hiccuped, putting the glass down clumsily as her stomach, warm from the added vodka, kicked around with excitement. 

_ Thirdly, your habit of late night correspondence has become increasingly annoying. I would feel violated, were I not also acutely concerned by your apparent lack of a social life. Tell me, Ben, do you stay up at night and comb through my edits, looking for mistakes, when you could be out with your friends? Do you even have friends? I certainly do, and they are sick of you pulling me away after work hours. There should be boundaries, Mr. Solo. I am not your toy. _

She slammed the last few keys down like a chicken hunting deliriously for food. The screen, now blurry to her, taunted Rey’s indignation. It said to her _ this email isn’t enough, he’s just going to make fun of it too, you need to really open up here Rey Johnson _ \--it did not go amiss that the imaginary voice of her computer screen sounded a lot like her friend Poe-- _ you need to tell him the truth_. 

The truth? What was that? She hated working for him, that was the truest thing of all. 

She hated how he would always bark her name from the other side of the room, his large forearms gripping the side of his door, fingers drumming impatiently against the glass while he waited for her to drop everything and rush to him. His stupidly sexy, wolfish, impatient fingers that she wanted all over her. Inside her. 

“Oh no no no you don’t,” Rey sputtered, jabbing an accusing finger into her computer screen, as though it were responsible for egging on her impure thoughts. She had done so well the past six months keeping her fantasies about Ben Solo’s hulking shoulders and tousled hair to herself thank you very much. 

_ I am not your toy. _ She typed the sentence a second time, her finger hesitating over the backspace button. The vodka tested her inhibition. 

Rey hastily deleted the sentence, angrily typing a new one in its place. 

_ If you think that I will always do whatever you say, you are sorely mistaken. You can’t keep me under your thumb forever, Benjamin. Even with those massive hands of yours. _

Another hiccup, the blood rushing through her ears to the tune of desire. His hands were _ so fucking huge _, always waving papers at her and pushing the hair out of his face. 

_ And that’s another thing. I am sick of you always shoving your way into my cubicle, hovering over me like you’re going to _

Rey licked her lips. 

_ Like you’re going to punish me right then and there, in front of everyone, if you catch me making a mistake. I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You would love to just bring your sexy lips right up to my ears and tell me to go to your office and bend over the desk because you know I would. _

And oh, Rey would, even as she rattled off all the reasons she couldn’t stand him, Rey would gladly bend over that stupid laminated desk and let Ben Solo drill his cock into her until the entire building evacuated from all the screaming. 

_ I would take only the tip your cock into my mouth slowly, at first, until you begged me to swallow the whole thing. You’d regret all the times you took me for granted then, wouldn’t you? You’d beg me to give you want you want. You’d tell me I’m your perfect, precious Rey and you couldn’t do anything without me. This whole place would fall apart without me. You would fall apart without me. _

She click-clacked away, assuring herself that she would delete this email. 

_ I bet it would thrill you to know how often I fantasize about you cumming inside me. Grabbing onto your hair and pulling it so hard when I feel you release. But I wouldn’t let you get that far until you gave me as many orgasms as I want. God, I could fucking orgasm just from watching your fingers. I want those fingers inside every part of me. I want to watch you taste me. Fuck, Ben, I-- _

The image was causing a pool of wetness between her thighs. She ached to touch herself, but the onset of exhaustion from the alcohol battled with her desire. Both things made her lids heavy and her breathing shallow. She tried to finish her thought... 

_ I won’t have those edits ready for you by morning _

Rey yawned as her head slumped forward, cheek pressing against the keyboard. 

She wrapped her arms around the laptop and grinned stupidly as she fell asleep, pretending that Ben Solo’s gigantic, muscular arms were holding her back. The side of her jaw booped the trackpad, causing a whooshing sound from the computer. 

The icon next to the email now read, “**SENT** ”. 

* * *

Rey woke to incessant beeping.

She jolted up, knocking into the open laptop screen. “Ahhhh!” Her voice was raspy and her throat begged for water. Bleary-eyed, she pushed the laptop aside and tried to stand. The pounding in her head made Rey wonder just what the _ hell _ happened last night. 

_ Oh… _ Her mind flashed back to the bar… _ tequila _. The memory made her cringe so she swept it away. Her boss would yell at her if she showed up even a minute late so there was no time to lose - 

Her boss. 

The email! 

Rey groaned, realizing that she hadn’t responded to his edits. As she rushed to shower and get dressed, her mind went over the list of excuses that might soften his attack on her when she showed up empty handed. Something blipped in the back of her mind - a nagging feeling like there was more to the email - but she didn’t give it enough thought. There was still coffee to make, breakfast to eat, two trains to catch, and a whole lot of power walking in order to make it through the door before Ben Solo. 

She barely skidded through the revolving doors on time to catch the elevator. It was packed, mostly full of people she didn’t recognize save for one tall, clean shaven, curly haired man. 

“Poe!” Rey hissed, scooting between bodies to get close to him. “I can’t believe you look so put together after last night.” 

“Well darling,” Poe smirked, smoothing the front of his light pink button up shirt, the sleeves iconically rolled up to reveal his tattoos. “I can hold my liquor.” The elevator doors opened, letting some people out. “You, on the other hand,” he wrinkled his nose, “look like you skipped at least two steps in the shower.” 

Rey smacked his arm. “Cut me some slack, I fell asleep in the living room.” 

“I’ve _ been _ cutting you slack. You need a good dickeni--” 

Before Poe could finish, the elevator doors opened again, signaling their floor. Rey beelined out, not waiting for her friend to finish his frankly uncalled for attack on her personal life. 

Her chair, still broken, waited for her. "Fuck me,” Rey kicked the pieces aside so she could at least put her bag down on the table. 

"_Rey Johnson_.” Ben Solo’s voice cut through the air like a dart. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “_Come see me in my office_.” 

_ Oh no, he’s going to fire me _… Her eyes flicked over to Poe’s cubicle with a begging gaze. For what, she didn’t know. Perhaps he could light her on fire before she made it to Ben’s office, or distract everyone while she jumped out of the window and ran off to change her name and move to Staten Island or something. Anything but face the wrath of her boss after forgetting to respond to his email. 

The nagging sensation tugged at her once again. _ Had _ she forgotten to respond to his email? What if she’d responded while she was drunk, with some incoherent babble that made her look like exactly the idiot he’d always thought of her as? Rey’s face strained as she tried to recall the events of last night. 

Laptop… email… vodka… _ email _… 

She knocked on Ben Solo’s door. 

“Come in!” He barked. 

Rey opened the door slowly, eyes widening in horror as she registered the printed packet in Ben Solo’s hands, yellow highlighter all over the front page.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ and here we have it, the smut we all came here for. if there's any interest i might be writing a sequel in which Rey is a cam girl and Ben is writing a hard hitting investigative piece on sex work. make sure u have a big glass of water nearby for this final installment!!! ]

“Johnson,” Ben’s voice was a straight line, his expression staggeringly still for someone who was likely about to fire her. Rey gulped, eyes darting back and forth between the yellow streak marks along the page and Ben’s unflinching brow. Had she really gotten so trashed she forgot about _ pages _ worth of an email, probably littered with poor spelling and grammar mistakes? A playground rife with grenades for Ben Solo to throw at her. 

Rey squinted, trying to catch a glimpse of something--anything--from the email before Ben spoke again. Her eyes trained on a few words, and what appeared caused her face to scrunch up in horror. 

_ Cock…. Fantasize… Cumming… _

“Oh God,” Rey blurted, “oh my fucking god.” Her entire face turned the color of christmas tinsel. The nagging feeling she’d been fighting off all morning suddenly made sense, in the most nauseating way. Her mind reeled, piecing together flashbacks of herself keeled over the laptop like a lunatic, drunkenly typing away. She recalled decidedly _ not _ sending the email. How had it ended up in Ben Solo’s hands, printed neatly, and _ edited oh dear god _ he edited the email. 

Rey’s hand flew up to her mouth, as though she might vomit right on Ben’s laminated desk--the same desk she’d fantasized him throwing her onto. Had she told him that in the email? How detailed was she? Her ears throbbed. 

Ben Solo had been watching her the whole time, eyes fixed like a hawk on its prey. He cleared his throat, smoothing out the packet in front of him and holding it up as though he stood in front of the gates of hell, reading off a list of transgressions that were sure to land Rey in a fiery pit of jobless doom. 

“I have here, in my hands,” he paused dramatically, “a _ very. Interesting. Email. _” 

Rey scrambled for an excuse to cut him off before he started in on the details. Ben Solo _loved_ to be particular. “Oh, yes, right, that old thing. It was a joke, actually. I meant to send that to my boyfriend, uhhh,” her mind cobbled together a name, “Kylo. Yeah. Kylo Ren. He’s umm, he’s German. You wouldn’t know him.” 

Finally Ben’s eyebrows moved, shooting up skeptically as he held the packet out to her and pointed at one of the highlighted sections. “Oh really?” His gravelly voice mocked her. “Because right here it says, Dear. Mr. Solo. And here, it says Ben, oh and here it says Mr. Solo again. And here--_ well _ \-- here, you went for the full name. _ Benjamin _ . Does your _ boyfriend _ Kylo Ren know you confuse him with your _ boss _, Ben Solo?” 

She squirmed, drawing a blank on anything that would circumvent his interrogation. Did he really have to highlight _ every _ time she used his name? “Err… Actually he umm… he asks me to call him Ben Solo. It… it turns him on.” 

Rey was internally screeching like a hyena. She was certain the only thing worse than emailing your boss about your sexual fantasies about him is telling your boss that you and your fake boyfriend roleplay as you and your boss. 

Ben’s eyebrows twitched again. He moved his finger to another section in the email. “So, your weird German boyfriend Kyle Ron--”

“Kylo Ren,” Rey squeaked, partially in disbelief at her own gall. She was not the only one, as Ben’s face contorted into wild incredulity. “_ Kylo Ren _ ,” he corrected himself, “likes to boss you around and punish you. And you like to take his cock into your mouth, ‘ _ slowly, at first _’,” he quoted the email at her in a ridiculous voice. 

“That’s not what I sound like!” 

“Johnson this is exactly what you sound like. The misplaced modifier. The awkward syntax, it’s like you’re cloying at the subject-object instead of simply letting it be. This is your consistent weakness.” He spoke matter-of-factly, flipping over to the second page of the packet. 

Was it possible to spontaneously combust from embarrassment? Rey had seen a TV show once, many years ago, where a girl could turn herself into a radioactive slime, providing a convenient exit in sticky situations. This situation was _ quite _ sticky. Rey squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to explode into slime. _ Be the slime, feel the slime, you are the slime _… 

“Johnson what are you doing?” Ben waved the packet in front of her face. 

“Oh, you know,” her voice sounded delirious, “trying really hard to disappear.” 

“Really _ hard _ , is that so?” Ben smirked, returning his gaze back to the packet as though she were his student and he was returning back to a rather lively lecture. “Right here you say, _ I could fucking orgasm just from watching your fingers _ .” He markedly held his own fingers right above the line, pointing. “You don’t mean _ these _ fingers, do you?” Ben spread his palm across the printed paper, flexing his knuckles. 

Even amidst the avalanche of heart palpitations, Rey discovered that it could, in fact, beat faster. His fingers spread out like that… 

Ben must have noticed, because he continued to drag them along the paper, drumming his fingers slowly like an orchestra conductor waiting for the crescendo. 

“I…” Rey’s voice, hazy as her expression, cracked. He had her in a trap and there was no way of getting out. Not only would she be fired, she could be sued for sexual harassment. No one would ever hire her again after this. Her life would be over. She’d have to become a cam girl or something in order to pay the bills. _ Rey Johnson, The Office Creep. _ No, no, that wouldn’t get any clicks. _ Rey Johnson, Creep in the Streets, Radioactive Slime In the Sheets _.

“Yes?” Ben lowered the packet slightly, boring into her with a clinical expression.

She opened her mouth a few times to reply, desperate for the cool sensation of water. Part of her hoped that she would just faint and be done with it before another word could be said, but then something--something very curious caught her eye. 

Ben Solo’s pants were stretching rather oddly around the zipper. In fact, one might say they were _ bulging _ with anticipation. Was he…. enjoyinig this? 

Rey’s eyes widened, a semi-hysterical grin taking over her previously dumbfounded expression. Ben had been extracting such pleasure from her embarrassment, acting as though he was above it all, when in reality… it was turning him on. He _ wanted _ the things she had said in the email. After all of his dictatorial demands and endlessly dissatisfied demeanor, he _ wanted _ her too. 

Rey suddenly had another brilliant, terrible, delicious, awful idea. 

“Sorry, could you show me again, I missed that,” her voice had shifted, much to Ben’s surprise, into an innocent coo. 

“What?” Ben snapped.

“Your hands. Could you show me them again? I just want to be certain those aren’t the hands I was writing about in the email. My boyfriend, Kylo Ren, he has such big… German… hands… I would know them anywhere.” She nearly coughed out the words, but something in Ben’s darkening eyes told her that her plan was working. 

“Uhh,” Ben Solo responded snidely, “what are you playing at, Johnson?” 

“I’m not _playing_ at anything, Ben,” Rey batted her eyes innocently. She took a step towards him--the first movement she’d made since coming into his office. “I just wanted to take a look at your hands again. You see, Kylo’s hands…” She reached out and plucked the packet from his hands, and a very stunned Ben Solo did nothing to stop her. “They’re _so_ massive.” 

Ben shifted uncomfortably, tugging on the fabric covering his pants zipper. Rey’s eyes watched him do it, and as they both looked back up, making eye contact, Ben Solo knew that he’d been found out, and Rey Johnson knew she wasn’t the only one harboring a very naughty secret. 

“I’ll have to let my _boyfriend_ know about this whole email mixup.” Rey purred, frankly a bit alarmed at herself for how much she enjoyed watching Ben Solo squirming now instead of her. “He’s going to punish me so much. I’ve been _so_ bad, don’t you think?” She hopped up onto his laminated desk, in doing so knocking over a few open files and a paperweight that looked expensive. Ben didn’t even flinch. His eyes were fixed stupidly on Rey, mouth hanging open as though he’d forgotten how to swallow. Or speak. Or do anything really, besides stare at Rey Johnson. 

For the last six months he had loathed coming into work every day and seeing her sit at that stupid cubicle, her skirts always too tight and her shirts always freshly ironed aside from the imprint of her bra. She wore _so many_ lace bras to work. 

He hated her. 

He wanted her to quit. 

He tried to get her to quit so many times, just so he could forget about all of the dirty thoughts he only let loose in the stairwells, but she just kept coming back. She annotated all his edits, cross-referenced them with impeccable accuracy, she even replied to his berating emails that he liked to send out at 2am. 

And now, she had the _absolute fucking audacity_ to throw herself onto his desk and taunt him. Didn’t she know he was an animal? Didn’t she know he wouldn’t even _bother_ to restrain himself, not after all these months of aching for a moment like this? 

“Ben, tell me I’ve been a bad girl.” 

At that, he lost it. 

He lunged at her, yanking her towards him by the thighs and forcing her legs around his hips. Growling, he took a handful of her hair and pulled back, exposing her neck. Rey squeaked, body shaking, but she did not stop him. “Rey Johnson,” he rumbled, breathing onto her neck, “_you have been a very...bad...girl _.” 

She undid his pants with such speed he wondered if this fake boyfriend Kylo Ren would be jealous of how hungrily she came at him. Rey crushed her lips against his, and Ben became too hungry himself to care about German men with big hands or contrived syntax or broken coffee makers. 

He wrenched up her skirt with equal speed, clawing at the panties that separated them. Without warning, he edged himself against her entrance--she was _ dripping wet _\--and shoved his cock inside with little ceremony to the gesture. They both groaned, clawing at each other’s bodies. Ben began thrusting wildly, the laminated desk beneath them quivering from the rawness of their hatred for one another. 

Rey moaned and squealed, causing Ben to shove a few of his fingers into her mouth, “Be quiet or I’ll make sure you can’t say a word,” he snarled, much to Rey’s delirious delight. She sucked on his fingers willingly, reveling in this six month long fantasy come to life. Only one more thing could make this truly, utterly, completely, a fanfic come true. 

Ben seemed to have caught hold of the same thought, for as he began thrusting faster he grabbed Rey’s chin and forced her gaze onto his, the same delirious pleasure in his eyes. “I’m going to give you exactly what you want, even though you’ve been such...a...bad...girl.” His words were punctuated by driving his cock as hard as he possibly could into her shivering body. Her mouth hung open, breath escalating, and Ben knew what was next. 

“Oh, ff--fuck,” He thrust one last time, feeling himself explode inside her. The warm, pulsing sensation finished her off as well, and Rey let out a small yelp, her body going limp in Ben's sweaty arms. He immediately pulled himself out of her and ran two fingers along the sensitive tip of his cock, collecting the mixture of their release, and brought it up to Rey’s mouth. He slowly inserted his fingers between her shaky lips, letting her taste the two of them, and with a smirk he whispered, “Rey Johnson. You… are so… fired.”


	4. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ the comments had me--had us all!!!--feeling a type of way, and i felt like they deserved this epilogue. these two crazy kids were so much fun to write!! if you're looking for a more serious, slow burn kinda vibe, please check out https://archiveofourown.org/works/20222065/chapters/47922919
> 
> in the meantime, look out for more prompt fics from me!! or feel free to request something you'd like to see done!! i love you all so much thank you for reading, replying, screaming, laughing, crying, and feeling that second-hand embarrassment with me! reylo 4 ever ]

**EPILOGUE**

Ben Solo locked the door to his office, a sly smile on his face as he checked his watch. He slid his arms through the sleeves of his brown leather jacket and threw an empty coffee cup into the trash on the way to the elevator. A few other employees were still at work, namely Poe and the new hire--a jovial, irritating man named Finn. Though he wouldn’t necessarily befriend the man, Ben was happy to have a decently hard-working replacement for Rey Johnson. 

Speaking of, he checked his watch again as the elevator slowly came to a halt. It opened, revealing a very familiar petite brunette, her hair loosely pinned in curls and her body wrapped in red silk--a dress Ben Solo had the immense privilege of seeing for the first time in that very moment. 

And, as to be expected, he was stunned. 

Rey Johnson giggled, reaching a hand out to grab him by the front folds of his jacket. She yanked him into the elevator just as the doors closed on them. “I said it was a black tie event. Where’s your black tie?” She tucked her arms inside the warmth of his jacket. His face was already tracing hers, inhaling her in, emitting low, hungry grunts, unceremoniously clawing at her bare shoulders.

As usual, Ben Solo had no intention of waiting to let Rey Johnson know just how much he’d missed her all day. 

He began kissing her neck, slowly, like a man drunk on a daydream, and when she whimpered playfully, he remembered that her question remained. 

“You want to know where my tie is?” He murmured, smiling into her hair. Rey squirmed a bit at the ticklish feeling of his breath on her. She nodded slowly. 

He wrapped himself around her entirely, casually pulling something out of his back pocket as he did so. With her body swallowed up by his arms, Ben pushed his mouth further into the curls of her hair, delighting at the way she shivered. He slowly unraveled a thin, black tie in his hands, out of view from her, and then he brought his lips to her ear. 

“I never forget my tie.” He snapped the fabric into a straight line, the sound echoing against the metal walls of the elevator, and brought it roughly up to the back of her neck, winding one end of it around his knuckle. With the other end he pulled her towards him, causing her red lipstick to smudge on the lapel of his jacket. 

The elevator doors behind them opened. 

“Oh, Rey!” A tall man with round glasses and a smart suit regarded them with a smile. He was waving them out of the elevator. Clusters of people dressed in evening-wear populated the lobby. From the glass doors, photographers could be seen on the other side, craning for a glimpse of someone. 

It seemed they all noticed her at once. 

Suddenly there was shouting. “Rey! Rey Johnson! Over here Miss Johnson!” 

Ben, who had been refusing to let his girlfriend out from under his tightly wrapped arms, his tie still pressed against the nape of her neck, smirked down at Rey and raised a brow. “You can never get through a single one of these things without getting your lipstick all over me.” 

“Oh please,” she spoke dryly, though her face was alight with mischief, “you beg me to get it all over your cock. This,” she patted his stained jacket, “is just a bonus. Now, let me go Mr. Solo, or I will tell all of these reporters that you…” she leaned up and whispered in his ear, knowing full well that it would make Ben’s knees wobble, “are the boss in the story.” She smirked. 

“ _ Miss Johnson! Miss Johnson, will there be a sequel? What happens between Kylo Ren and Kira? Will there be a movie version? Miss Johnson! They are calling you the Queen of Modern Romance! Miss Johnson!” _

Ben finally let go of her, though he kept the tie wrapped around his knuckle, that same hand resting protectively on Rey’s shoulder while they walked through the crowd of people. And even though he always complained about it when they got home--even though he didn’t like how close some of these agents would stand--Ben Solo could not help but enter that Stateroom with a shit-eating grin, knowing that millions of people got their rocks off to  _ The Adventures of Kira: Radioactive Slime Girl _ and her evil, conniving boss, Kylo Ren, but the only person who could get Rey’s rocks off was him. 

Him. Ben Solo, washed up news reporter who no longer wrote emails without his girlfriend’s exceptional editing advice. 


End file.
